False Report (29 page)

Celia said, ‘Jeremy?'

‘I'll explain in a minute, Max,' said Bea. ‘But for the moment let's all calm down and not make any decisions we might regret later.'

‘Supper up for the first sitting,' said Maggie. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot. There was a note pushed through the letter box for you.' She held an envelope out to Bea. ‘Anyone want grated cheese on their potato?'

‘Haven't you anything else?' Max followed her out to the kitchen.

Celia went with them, saying, ‘Can I help?'

Bea gestured to Jeremy to stay behind, while she tore open the note. Typed. Ordinary A4 sheet.

Mr Toupee was killed by someone waiting for him in the foyer this morning. Take care. Miss Butt.

Oh. Dear.

Jeremy said, ‘Are you all right, Mrs Abbot?'

She patted the seat beside her. ‘Jeremy, the Badger Gang is being hunted down and killed, one by one. I've been threatened, too. I think we should all take precautions and not let any strangers into the house till this is over.'

‘But you need my room, and Celia has offered—'

‘That's another thing. Celia is an old friend and perhaps a little naive about men. You are a charismatic and even glamorous man of the world.' She was surprised to find herself saying this, but realized it was true. ‘Is it right for you to take advantage of her?'

He was honest enough to redden. ‘As soon as I saw her, I thought . . . I could see . . . there was something between us. It felt right. I could see the sort of person she is, kind and generous and caring. I felt at home in a way that I haven't done for, well, for ever. But you're right, and I mustn't put her in danger. I'll go to a hotel.'

‘You'll stay right here. Now, with regard to Celia, I want you to promise me that you'll take things slowly. Take time to get to know her. Tell her . . . Well, tell her everything about yourself, if you know what I mean, so that she doesn't expect more than you can offer.'

He said, eagerly, ‘I did go to a therapist and learn how to please a woman when I was going to marry Eunice, only she said she didn't want to know about all that.'

It was Bea who blushed this time. ‘Well, that's good. But I don't want either of you to get hurt, so take it gently?'

‘Promise.'

‘And now . . . supper. Sorry it's not much.'

There was a flash of light.

Lightning? Puzzled, she looked out of the back window. The sky was clear.

Jeremy was shouting something about a fire. A fire? Where? Here?

There was a sheet of flame, a roaring sound, from the front of the house. She dashed to the front window, was held back by Jeremy who was shouting, ‘Careful!'

The front of the house was on fire.

No. The steps down to the agency rooms were on fire.

Oliver opened the front door, then dashed back to fetch the fire extinguisher that lived in the cupboard in the hall. Out of the front door he went, banging the nozzle open and directing the foam down the steps.

Max burst into the sitting room. ‘Mother, there's a fire! Get away from that window!'

Maggie shot in behind him, with Celia on her heels, asking for Jeremy. Maggie looked excited but acted calmly, getting out her mobile phone, summoning the Fire Brigade.

Oliver had the blaze targeted. The flames lost intensity and collapsed in on themselves. Bea started for the front door, only to be held back by Max. ‘No, Mother! I won't allow it!'

Celia said, ‘There used to be another extinguisher in the office downstairs. Shall I get it?'

‘It'll be too heavy for you,' said Jeremy. ‘Show me where and I'll get it. Tackle the blaze from below.'

Oliver retreated into the hall, throwing down the empty extinguisher. ‘It's out. I think someone poured petrol down the steps and tossed in a lighted match.'

Various curious neighbours had begun to gather. Bea went out on to the steps and called out, ‘Did anyone see anything?'

Heads were shaken.

There hadn't been much damage. Charred steps. The little bay tree which stood at the bottom of the steps in the area had been given the kiss of death. The two that flanked the stairs at the top were charred, but might recover.

Oliver wiped his arm across his forehead. ‘I'm a bit worried about the door to the office.'

‘Jeremy's on to it from the inside.'

Oliver looked worried. ‘Did they want to get at you – or Jeremy?'

‘Or both?' She found she was trembling, but put Max's arm aside and went down the stairs to the agency rooms. Jeremy was patting the agency door from the inside. ‘Good stout door, only faintly warm. I don't think it's going to burst into flames.'

Bea felt the wood, as he had done. She wanted to lie down and howl, go to bed and pull the duvet over her head and let the world go on its wicked way, but she was Mother Hen and had to be strong. Well, sort of.

Thank you, Lord. Oh, thank you. Thank you for Oliver's quick thinking. Thank you for making sure all the extinguishers were up to date, which was part of Miss Brook's job, come to think of it, so she's saved our bacon . . . again. So thank you for Miss Brook and her foresight and attention to detail. We can easily get the steps cleaned and buy another plant. I suppose the insurance will cover it.

‘Thank you, Jeremy. Quick thinking, Celia.'

Max appeared, making a great production of feeling the door up and down. Neeh-nah, neeh-nah. The fire bridge had arrived. Oh. Splendid. Now they'd need an explanation, with cups of tea and biscuits, no doubt.

‘Max, could you possibly deal with the firemen for me?'

He patted her shoulder. ‘Leave it to me. You go and put your feet up.'

Chance would be a fine thing.

Max climbed the stairs to the hall and could be heard informing the officers that everything was under control.

Bea found someone had put his arm around her. Jeremy was holding her in one arm, and Celia in the other.

‘I expect you two could both do with a good cry,' he said.

Celia nodded, wiping her eyes. ‘How about a cuppa, with three sugars in it?'

‘Trust me for that,' said Bea, trying to smile, too. They went up the stairs to find Max telling the firemen what to do – as if they didn't know far better than him.

Oliver, too, had retreated to the kitchen, now that the danger was past, and was sitting on a stool, resting his head on his hands.

Bea went straight to Oliver and put her arms around him. ‘Oh, Oliver. Are you hurt? Are you OK? Thank you for saving us.'

‘I'm OK.' But he wasn't. He was shivering. Brave as a lion, quick as a panther in times of danger; now he was having a reaction.

Max said, ‘I would have saved you, if I'd been nearer the door.'

Jealous? Oh. Bea held out her hand to Max. ‘Of course you would, Max.'

Maggie's voice was wobbly, too. ‘Tea, everyone?'

Max seated himself, prepared to be waited on. ‘Now, Mother. Who'd want to firebomb your place?'

The chief fireman also wanted to know. He had a strong, lean face with eyes that had seen most things in his time. Bea struggled to put her thoughts in order. She thought of the anonymous phone call warning her not to interfere. She thought of Mr Toupee and John O'Dare in the morgue. Ditto Josie. Well, if this was the killer's way of getting even with Bea, he hadn't made a very good job of it.

She tried to explain. ‘I think it's connected to a murder case which is being handled by DI Durrell. We're looking after a witness whom the gang has tried to kidnap a couple of times. That's Jeremy, here; Mr Waite. I was warned not to interfere, and I think this is the result.'

The fireman took notes. ‘Inspector . . . who did you say?'

‘Really, Mother! Whatever will you get mixed up in next?'

‘It's all my fault,' said Jeremy, looking wretched.

‘No, no,' said Bea. But even she heard her voice lacked conviction.

‘Got a number for this Inspector?' The chief was thorough, she'd grant him that.

She found the number in her handbag and gave it to him. ‘He'll be off duty at this time of day, I should think. I'd try him in the morning again.'

The firemen tramped up and down. They checked the door downstairs from the inside and the outside, and made sure the lock was holding fast. They tossed the charred bay tree up to the top of the steps. Max was in his element, overseeing them. They didn't seem to resent it. Perhaps they were used to being bossed by outsiders and knew how to ignore them while calmly getting on with the job in hand?

Finally, they said they didn't think there'd be any more trouble with the door that evening, it was cooling fast and wouldn't burst into flames again. They said they'd inform the police what had happened, and her Inspector Durrell would no doubt be in touch about it.

And then there was supper. Cold meats, salad, microwaved potatoes. None of them felt like eating a cold meal. Even Maggie said she'd really fancy a nice, fattening, filling pizza. Max said he rather thought he'd pop out for something, before settling down for the night.

Oliver still looked drained, but said, ‘Jeremy's in the spare room, but there's a brand-new sofa in the sitting room at the top of the house, which is supposed to pull out to make a bed.'

Bea could see that Oliver was going to offer to give Max his room, while he could sleep on the Put-U-Up, but . . .

Max rushed in, too quickly. ‘Splendid. And you're going to try it out so that I can have your room?'

‘No,' said Oliver, reversing his decision. ‘But you can sleep on it, if you wish.'

Jeremy lifted his head. ‘It really would be best if I—'

‘Yes, Jeremy,' said Bea. ‘I was thinking that myself. They may not try again. They may think they've done enough damage. But they're getting too close to you. So just in case, I do think you should go somewhere else, somewhere they don't know about.'

Celia looked up with a smile.

‘No, Celia. They know far too much about us for my comfort, and they may know about you. I'm going to ring Piers and see if he'll let Jeremy sleep on his settee tonight.'

‘Then I can have the spare room,' said Max, happily. ‘I'll start bringing my stuff in, and then I'll go out for a decent meal. Want to join me, Mother?'

‘No, thank you, dear. I've got rather a lot to do. Not least . . . Maggie, have we enough clean sheets for the spare room?'

Maggie nodded. Sighed. ‘I really fancy a pizza. I think I'll send out for one.'

Bea went into the sitting room to ring Piers, and Max followed her.

‘Mother, when is Piers actually moving in?' Was Max worried that Piers, too, might want the spare room over the summer recess?

‘Not for some time. He's got a new woman in tow.'

‘Oh, well; that's all right, then. I asked Oliver to help me move my stuff in, but he's gone off in a huff.'

Bea half smiled. She wasn't going to step in between those two. Besides, she'd reached Piers on her phone. ‘Bea here. Are you tied up tonight, Piers? Can I beg a bed for Jeremy? The settee would do fine. We've had a bit of an incident here. Someone threw petrol down the steps to the agency rooms and tossed a match into it. No, no one's hurt. Oliver put out the flames, and we've had the Fire Brigade round to make sure everything's safe, but I'd feel happier if Jeremy were elsewhere for the night . . . No, he wouldn't be bringing his keyboard, so you'd have some peace and quiet. Yes, just for tonight. We've got to fetch his mail and some of his things from Jason's Place. You remember the corner café? And then I'll bring him straight round to you, if that's all right.'

She put the phone down, feeling her age. It was just one thing after another at the moment.

Max said, ‘I'll start bringing in my stuff, shall I?' And banged the front door on his way out. She very much hoped he'd thought to put it on the latch, but he probably hadn't, and someone would have to go and let him in, in a minute.

Jeremy popped his head round the door and, seeing she was alone, came in, with Celia in tow. ‘Mrs A, would it be possible for us to drop Celia back to her place first? It's getting late, and I don't think she ought to be out on the streets by herself until this business has been sorted.'

‘Agreed. I'll take you on to Piers' afterwards. Get some overnight things together, and we'll be off in, say, twenty minutes.'

‘I'll drive you,' said Oliver, materializing behind them. ‘No arguments. You know what the parking's like around there.'

Max overheard Oliver's offer as he puffed away, hauling boxes into the hall. How amazing! He'd actually thought to put the door on the latch. Max said, ‘I was going to offer to drive you, but there's still a lot of stuff in my car and I don't want to move it now I've got a parking space outside.'

‘Thank you both,' said Bea. ‘Most thoughtful. Yes, Oliver, I'd be grateful. I'd probably signal left and turn right, if I tried to drive this evening.'

Maggie appeared in the doorway, looking forlorn. ‘Anyone else want a pizza? I've packed up some sandwiches for Jeremy to take with him, but it's beyond me to cook tonight.'

This opened up a fresh worry for Bea. ‘I don't like the idea of leaving you alone in the house, Maggie. Oliver and I are both going to be out for a couple of hours, maybe. Can you go to a friend's place tonight?'

Max objected. ‘Someone has to stay, to man the fort. I'm sure Maggie will be perfectly all right by herself.'

‘I'll ring round, see who's free to come and sit with me.' Maggie disappeared.

Oliver held up the car keys. ‘We take Celia home first? Then go to Jason's Place, then Piers'. Right?'

Bea thought of telling Oliver that she was feeling a bit tired and would like to stay at home with Maggie, but remembered in time that someone was going to have to show Jeremy the way up to Piers' flat. Piers' present address was at the top of an elderly building, with no lift in sight. Someone would be needed to guide Jeremy up the wearisome flights of stairs, leaving the car un attended down below on a double yellow line, which would make it perfect prey for trawling meter men. Oliver couldn't look after the car and take Jeremy up the steps, so she would have to go. Oh well. On with the fray.